


Fun and Games

by jamelia116



Series: "Quid Pro Quo"/"Satisfaction" [4]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Humor, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This little piece of fluff is set in the same universe as "Quid Pro Quo," "Satisfaction," and "Weekend in Tahiti, or Tom and B'Elanna and Harry and Seven's Excellent Vacation." Now that Seven, A.K.A. Ensign Hansen, has developed a tolerance for vacation, she's been convinced to devote a little more recreational activity time in the Tahiti program with her lover Harry and their good friends (most of the time) Tom and B'Elanna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun and Games

**FUN AND GAMES**  
**by Jamelia**

 

**1 - WHAT'S SO BAD ABOUT MINTON?**

 

" . . . strike this object with this racquet? It's construction appears more fragile than the one the captain uses for tennis. Clearly, it is inadequate for its purpose." That flat, my- assessment-is-final tone emanating from Seven's mouth was all too familiar to B'Elanna. The know-it-all Borg could reappear when you least expected it. Like right now, on the beach in Tahiti. Holographic Tahiti, true, but that's all they had available to them in the Delta Quadrant. Holographic Tahiti would be just as good as the real thing, if a certain former Borg could manage to play along. Just once, play along without getting bent over shape over nothing at all . . .

"No, Seven. It isn't too fragile. You can see how light this shuttlecock is. It's not like we're hitting a hard ball, like in tennis." Tom flipped the object in question towards the statuesque blonde, who caught it with a lightning-quick flick of her wrist.

Perusing the shuttlecock solemnly, in exactly the same manner as she was wont to examine her console in Astrometrics, Seven commented, "It doesn't look much like Harry's . . ."

"It's because of the feathers, Seven. That's why they call it a cock!" Harry interrupted quickly.

B'Elanna tried not to laugh. Really, she did. The rhythmic way that Seven was stroking the feathers of the shuttlecock didn't help much, of course. One glance at her husband's mirth-filled blue eyes, however, and, a hint of a giggle slipped out. And seeing the beads of sweat break out on Harry's brow as he stared at Seven's fingers gently squeezing the ball-like tip of the white object in her hand was simply too much. A very loud snort erupted from B'Elanna's nostrils, which set Tom off into hysterics.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Harry?" Voyager's chief engineer muttered to her friend. "Why do we always have to play these games when we're here anyway?"

"It's fun to play games, " Harry replied earnestly. "We're here to have fun."

"Sure they're fun. But don't you think it would be just as fun to laze around here, doing nothing? Tom and me can go off, doing nothing . . . or almost nothing . . . all by ourselves? You and Seven off by yourselves, enjoying a little . . . private . . . physical exertion of your own? Wouldn't that be fun enough for today? We've only got 12 hours this time."

"I was hoping to save that for later."

B'Elanna met Tom's eyes. There was a certain glint there that screamed, "Now would be just as good as later, because then we can do it AGAIN later." But when he shrugged his shoulders, B'Elanna sighed to herself as she looked back to where Harry was standing next to his love.

She was still examining the shuttlecock, looking for all the quadrant as if she had something of import on the tip of her Borg-enhanced tongue to say (B'Elanna assumed it was Borg-enhanced, like so much of the rest of her). She devoutly hoped Seven was in the mood for it now, rather than later, too. After a second or two more of hesitation, however, B'Elanna's hopes were dashed when Seven said, "You said this game was a variant of ping pong and tennis? Please delineate the rules and strategy of this particular version."

"You don't do any bouncing like you do with a ball, of course, but . . . " As Harry went over the rules for Seven, B'Elanna took advantage of the time to lean cozily against Tom's chest for a few minutes, burying her face briefly into the hair on his chest and enjoying the scent of his skin in her nostrils. Not that they could get too cozy, of course. They were on the same team this time. B'Elanna didn't want him to be too distracted to play the game well.

Although the chief engineer and the chief of Astrometrics had learned to co-exist fairly well since they'd shared Seven's prize weekend in the Tahiti program with their respective loves several months before, one thing hadn't changed. Both women were exceedingly competitive. Whenever there was a game to be played, they both wanted to win. Badly.

Velocity was Seven's game; hoverball, B'Elanna's. In two-on-two basketball they were most equally matched when they teamed up according to their romantic attachments; for whenever Tom and Seven were partners, they had the advantage because of height. B'Elanna and Harry were almost always the winners when they were partnered against Tom and Seven in Parisses Squares, because they were more agile than their taller foes. In ping pong, Seven and whoever was her partner usually won, thanks to the advantage the Borg ocular implant gave her. That, not so coincidentally, was the one game B'Elanna didn't mind being on the same team as Seven. Most of the rest of the time, they tended to become aggravated with each other if they were playing together. In ping pong, B'Elanna was content just to win.

Tom and Harry didn't usually care what they played or who they were partners with. What they were interested in was consoling the loser and celebrating with the winner.

It was a nice arrangement for the guys. Seven and B'Elanna, however, often preferred to skip the games and go right to the celebrating. That way, neither one needed to be consoled. For some reason, the boys preferred to play the games.

Once Seven had assured them that she understood the game, they took their places on either side of the net. As usual, Seven's enhanced senses and B'Elanna's Klingon athleticism balanced out quite well. Tom and Harry played enthusiastically. Oh, B'Elanna noticed that both of the guys tended to let their eyes wander at their female partners' bathing-suit covered bouncing bosoms or butts every now and then, but B'Elanna would grant them a little fun.

She had her eyes on some masculine butt and pectorals herself.

B'Elanna wasn't sure quite how long they'd played before one particularly powerful swing by Seven sent the poor little shuttlecock diving towards the sands at Tom's feet. He managed to catch it and flip it up towards B'Elanna, who reflexively hit it back over the net.

The shuttlecock landed between two very large bouncing breasts. Two suddenly bare bouncing breasts. The slender strap that had struggled to hold up the front end of Seven's snugly fitted, whale-bone stayed suit had finally been unable to meet the demands of the task to which it had been assigned. The bathing suit stays kept most of the garment in position. The mammary glands, however, had managed to burst out from confinement.

"Whose point is that, Mr. Paris?" inquired Seven, seemingly oblivious to the state of her bathing costume. "Was it permissible for both of you to touch the cock in such a manner?"

"I . . . uh . . . ," Tom replied, not at all oblivious to his opponent's revised bathing costume.

"Seven! Your suit!" Harry cried out, rushing over to his partner and tugging at the cloth in a vain attempt to get it to cover what it was supposed to be covering.

Seven scowled at her partner. "My suit is irrelevant. Who won the point?"

"Don't mind them, Seven. Their pupils are dilated too far for either of them to be able to answer your question now." A quick glance at Tom's bathing suit had already revealed to B'Elanna a very satisfying bulge, indicating that something else was dilating besides her husband's pupils. The momentary surge of anger that threatened to overwhelm her was quickly displaced when she noted that, as usual, Tom had diverted his eyes away from Seven's charms and towards B'Elanna's in a moment of crisis. Deciding to help him concentrate on what he should be concentrating upon, B'Elanna dropped her racquet to the sand and approached her husband. As soon as she got close enough to Tom to touch him, B'Elanna reached behind her back and unclasped the closure of her bikini bra. Obligingly, it flipped up to reveal B'Elanna's attributes just as she turned to face fully away from Harry and Seven. Perfect timing.

"Uh, Harry. I think we need to take a little break here. B'Elanna has an . . . equipment problem just like Seven's. I think we need to do a little repair here before we play any more. Badminton."

"Excellent idea, Flyboy," B'Elanna breathed into his ear as Tom used his large, skilled hands to serve as her new bra. "Always quick on your feet, aren't you?"

"Feet. Hands. Other body parts, too, B'Elanna. In case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed all right."

As Tom and B'Elanna retreated to their hut, only one thing penetrated their consciousness beyond the equipment repairs they were about to undertake.

"But Harry, whose point was it? Did we win?"

"Yes. We won. So did Tom and B'Elanna. It's a tie."

 

~~~/\~~~

 

**2 - SIDEOUT**

Strolling down towards the beach with B'Elanna on his arm, Tom felt that all was right with Voyager. He was in a mellow mood. An afterglow sort of mood.

"Hey, Harry, why'd you change the net?"

"I thought maybe we could play a little volleyball instead of badminton."

"We finished playing badminton? I thought it was a tie game." B'Elanna gave Tom's rear a playful slap at his insolent remark even as he heard her sniggering in his ear.

"I'd prefer to call it a draw and leave it at that."

"Oh. You already recycled the racquets?"

"Yeah. They needed to be recycled."

"Were they broken?"

"They got a little unstrung."

Tom and B'Elanna looked at each other, then back at Harry. Harry was blushing.

"Oh, really? Some sort of experiment gone astray? Maybe a little aid to regeneration?" Tom asked, rather pointedly.

Harry got even redder. "So, Harry, what about the shuttlecock? That get recycled, too? Maybe to where no shuttlecock has gone before?"

Harry cleared his throat but was unable to come up with a rejoinder. His face, impossible as it might seem, just got redder.

Tom's face began to hurt from the width of his grin. Before he could add to B'Elanna's obviously on-target shot, however, Seven strode down the pathway, clad in a different bathing suit.

This one was of a lighter weight that showed the distinctive lines of her regeneration corset beneath it. The straps were wider than on her earlier suit. Instead of one skinny little string slung halter-style around Seven's neck and forced to work all by its lonesome, two much sturdier straps swept over each shapely shoulder. Although the front of the suit was cut low to display Seven's abundant cleavage to excellent advantage, it was unlikely either strap would break unless the whole suit developed molecular integrity problems.

Tom wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad about that. It made his life with B'Elanna simpler for him not to be tempted to stare at Seven's . . . attributes. He had to admit they were very pleasant attributes to have glimpsed, even for those few seconds they had been visible in all their naked glory. While Tom had teased his friend unmercifully about Harry's contention that no Borg implants lurked within those mounds of glandular tissue, from his duty shifts in sickbay, the facts had always been known to him. Reading about Seven's anatomy was nothing like actually seeing it, though.

Harry was a lucky guy, no question about that.

But then, Tom felt he was a lucky guy, too. While B'Elanna's own "equipment" may have lacked Annika Hansen-style mass, it more than made up for it with what Tom believed to be an even more important characteristic: B'Elanna's breasts were beautifully shaped and perfectly proportioned for her petite, yet powerful frame. The pertness of her nipples enticed his mouth to engulf them at every rapturous opportunity, and there was quite enough volume to keep Tom a contented man. He certainly didn't feel at all deprived, and his wife had no need to feel at all inadequate in the face of Seven's voluminous bounty. Just to make sure, Tom reminded B'Elanna of this frequently--usually, while gasping between mouthfuls of tempting, succulent bosom.

When Seven had finally tiptoed her way down to the beach, Tom dragged his mind away from pleasant ruminations about sucking on dancing mammary tissue. It was time to discuss other types of sporting events.

". . . but when you do spike the ball, make sure you don't strike the net with your hand, or you lose the point. That's a side out," Harry patiently explained to Seven and B'Elanna, neither of whom had previously had the chance to participate in Tom and Harry's forays onto the holodeck to play volleyball.

"This game seems much like tennis, just as ping pong or badminton are, but the hand replaces a racquet?" Seven surmised.

"Yes, I guess you could say that. Okay, you understand the rules, right? And remember, no carrying the ball. That's a no-no." Murmurs of acquiescence from B'Elanna and Seven followed Harry's discourse. "All right, now, let's choose up sides and decide who's going to serve first."

At B'Elanna's suggestion, she and Harry teamed up against Tom and Seven. Tom had a hunch that B'Elanna wanted him to have his eyes on her rather than on Seven during the game. That was fine by him. Here was a game where his and Seven's height advantage should benefit their side greatly.

Harry was first to serve. His experience at playing volleyball asserted itself quickly when he served an ace. The ball was perfectly placed between Tom and Seven so that both ended up staring at each other rather than trying to hit it. "Oh, a great 'hubby-wife,' if I do say so myself!" Harry burbled joyfully.

His second serve was also an ace, although this time, Tom was able to dig the serve and set it at a perfect position for Seven to return it over the net. It didn't work out that way. Seven bumped the ball out of bounds. She was unable to handle the third serve, which Harry angled directly at her, knowing she would be the weak link.

"Time out!" yelled Tom as he trotted over to his partner.

"I apologize, Lieutenant Paris. I do not appear to grasp the essentials of this sport."

"Seven, don't worry about it. Just relax. It's only a game. Eventually they'll make a mistake and we'll start to get the hang of it," he reassured her.

After a quick drink of water all around, Harry served a fourth time. The time out may have broken Harry's concentration, because this time, he served the ball into the net. It bounced back, almost giving B'Elanna a "facial" in the process. B'Elanna grumbled peevishly at Harry as she rolled the ball under the net to Tom.

Tom made his first serve count, just clipping the corner of the court behind B'Elanna. "One-three," Tom intoned as he served the ball a second time. It, too, was a good serve, but B'Elanna was in good position to accept the ball and bump it high in the air for Harry to slam over the net.

"Side out!" B'Elanna called out, her good humor restored by her successful play.

B'Elanna's first serve just clipped the top of the net, destroying her good mood immediately. Noticing a furrowed brow over a Borg ocular implant, Tom whispered encouragingly to her as he handed the ball to her, "Seven, just relax. Hit the ball the way Harry and I showed you. You can do it."

Seven served the ball exactly the way Harry and Tom had showed her. The only thing off about her serve was its power. The ball sailed high above B'Elanna's and Harry's heads, landing about four meters past the end line.

"That was . . . very good, Seven. You just might want to take a little heat off next time," Tom said.

"Heat? There was no . . ."

"Don't hit it so hard," Tom interrupted quickly, before Seven had a chance to discourse at length about relative temperatures.

For the rest of the game, that was the way it was. For every good point Tom and Seven made, B'Elanna and Harry made three. They may have been shorter, but B'Elanna could leap higher than Seven. Twice, she spiked the ball down into the sand in front of Seven. Harry had an uncanny sense of where the ball needed to land for it to be difficult to return and hit that spot more often than not. Almost before Tom knew it, the score was fifteen-five.

In relief that it was over, Tom trotted to the net with Seven, reaching under to shake hands. "Good game, Harry, B'Elanna."

"Oh, the game may be over, but the match isn't. Best two out of three?" Harry suggested magnanimously. He could not be dissuaded to end the match after one game

During the second game, Tom noticed that Seven had to pull one or both of her bathing suit straps up on several occasions. He didn't think much of it. The fabric was simply stretching a little, he assumed. When the score was at eleven to ten in a hard fought game, however, he thought more about it. A lot more about it. Seven stooped down to dig a low ball that B'Elanna had returned off Tom's serve. Both straps slipped off her shoulders at once. Tom barely noticed, as he was busy setting the ball for Seven to spike over the net. Seven executed a perfect spike. Her right strap fell just a little more, allowing a massive globe of flesh to emerge from Seven's swimsuit. A lot more than cleavage appeared within Harry's line of sight.

Harry would have had trouble defending against the spike as it was. With his eyes attracted by Seven's state of dishabille, he had no chance.

"Hey! That's not fair! You shouldn't get a point for that!" B'Elanna stormed angrily.

"It's not like she did it deliberately, B'Elanna," Tom said placatingly.

"It's still a distraction! It should be illegal!"

"I apologize, again, Lieutenants. Harry and I chose this garment to be replicated because the straps appeared unlikely to break. I did not factor in the expansion capabilities of the fabric when computing the variables." As she spoke, Seven rearranged her clothing to cover her . . . attributes.

"It's all right. We'll find a better suit for you," Harry said.

"Maybe one with a turtleneck?" offered Tom, helpfully.

"I'm not sure even that would work. She'd probably get a tear in it and pop out all over again." Calming down as Seven covered up, B'Elanna mused, "I'm beginning to see why the Doctor stuffed you into those unitards when you first came on board."

"I regret the inconvenience. Perhaps we should discontinue the volleyball match."

B'Elanna narrowed her eyes and thought a moment. "Wait a minute. What Tom said? About the turtleneck?"

"That was a joke. People don't wear turtlenecks on the beach."

"Maybe this one should. Computer, produce one sleeveless turtleneck and one oblong scarf." The desired objects materialized at B'Elanna's feet. "Come with me, Seven. Let's fix you up."

A few minutes later, the game resumed with Seven wearing a turtleneck beneath her bathing suit, the straps of which were tied in the back securely by the scarf. Seven and Tom lost the game and the match, despite Seven's complaints that the knotted scarf restricted her movements. When Harry magnanimously offered to make the match three out of five, however, Tom and Seven declined.

"So, what should we do now?" Harry asked.

"You ever play Twister, Harry?"

"I don't think so. Can we play it with two teams?"

"Actually, it would be better if you and Seven play it, while B'Elanna and I spin for you. And then we can play it while you spin for us."

"Is this another of those old games like Spin the Bottle?" Harry asked, in what Tom perceived to be a hopeful tone of voice.

"It's kind of up to you . . ." Tom grinned.

Harry thought about it a moment while a slow smile spread across his face. "Say, Seven, I've got a new game to teach you."

"Will it cause my clothing to become dislodged from my body?"

"Only if we want it to."

Seven arched an eyebrow. "Proceed."

 

~~~/\~~~

 

**3 - POKER FACES, AND OTHER PLACES**

 

"Wearing so many layers of clothing is uncomfortable, Lieutenant Torres."

"The game is strip poker, Seven. You understand that we aren't going to be using chips to bet with. Pieces of clothing, that's what the bets are going to be."

"Yes, I am aware of the nature of the bets. I fail to perceive the need for me to wear so many garments, however. I usually win at poker."

"Your eidetic memory may give you an advantage, Seven, but there's no need to ease up on Tom and Harry. I happen to know that Tom is wearing a jock strap underneath briefs, boxers, AND a pair of shorts."

Seven curled her upper lip slightly. "Harry is wearing three shirts and two pairs of socks."

"See? They're cheating. Now, is that fair?"

"Existence does not appear to be 'fair,' Lieutenant."

"Let's skip the philosophy for now, Seven. If you want to be sitting there in the nude--the loser--while the rest of us finish the game, that's up to you."

"From our previous experiences this afternoon, it would appear that leaving certain parts of my anatomy unclothed may be a better strategy if I desire to win. Harry's attention would most likely be on my body rather than on the game. As in the Twister game."

"Well, Seven, you've got me there. When you put your left hand on the yellow circle, your right boob was poking Harry right in the eye. Practically in his mouth. I'm not surprised he crumpled underneath you."

"Precisely." A wisp of a smile replaced Seven's sneer at the recollection. The game had broken up right after Harry conceded defeat, to be replaced by a private game of Twister that had been much more satisfactory, in Seven's estimation.

"Hmmm. Now that I think of it, we may be able to adapt your strategy to strip poker."

"Then I may remove some of these garments?"

"No, leave them on. For now. They'll be coming off soon enough. It's more the order they come off that should be our ace in the hole. So to speak." An evil grin began to light B'Elanna's face as she suggested a course of action. As she listened to the plan, Seven's wisp of a smile broadened into one surprisingly similar to B'Elanna's.

~/\~

The pile of garments on the table on the verandah in front of Seven and Harry's hut had grown significantly. B'Elanna had watched her husband's expression grow jauntier with every hand as the quantity of feminine clothing pieces outnumbered the masculine ones by an increasing margin. While Tom was down to a single muscle undershirt, he was still wearing three garments over his butt (that B'Elanna knew about) and both pairs of socks. Harry had on his undershirt and his pineapple print Hawaiian shirt, along with at least two pair of shorts, socks, and underwear. Seven's visible garments were her stretchy strap bathing suit, a regeneration corset, and socks. B'Elanna had on three bikini bottoms and two tops, but that was all.

"I'll raise you and call, B'Elanna. Let's see what you've got . . . in your hand," Tom said confidently.

"Only a pair of tens."

"Read 'em and weep. Three kings," Tom crowed. "So, what will your next contribution be, B'Elanna?"

B'Elanna unhooked the topmost bikini top and plunked it down on the table for Tom to pick up. The only one she was wearing now was the black one. The very skimpy black one, the one that barely covered her nipples. In fact, when B'Elanna chose this moment to stretch her back, it didn't quite cover the areola completely on the right side. The side facing Tom. He lost control of the cards he'd been shuffling momentarily as B'Elanna squirmed in her chair.

"Sorry," Tom mumbled, scooping up the spilled cards.

"Nothing to be sorry about," commented B'Elanna, catching Seven's eye. The light of recognition shone in the Borg-enhanced eye and its mate. The barest of nods followed, echoed by the movement of B'Elanna's head. Time for the guys to get what they thought they wanted.

"Five card stud. Nothing wild," Tom said as he began to deal the cards.

This hand, Seven bluffed outrageously. Harry won the hand. "Time to pay up, Seven," Harry said with a smile.

Seven nodded agreement and stood up. Slowly, she removed first one strap, then the other, from her shoulders. Grabbing her suit beneath her armpits, Seven peeled the suit down to her waist. Seven's regeneration corset stopped just below where a supportive garment would cover her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra. Tom stared intently at the table while Harry gaped open mouthed as Seven slowly slipped the rest of the suit off her body. She turned as she bent down to slip the suit from her feet so that her thong-clad derriere was almost in Harry's face. She resumed her seat with a little more force than usual. Certain tissues bobbled enticingly for Harry's benefit as she straightened up and asked, "What variant of poker will we be playing this hand, Harry?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Same as last hand. Nothing wild."

The next hand, B'Elanna threw away a pair of sixes, retaining only a pair of deuces. Seven beat her hand with a pair of fours. For Tom's and Harry's benefit, B'Elanna paused and contemplated for a moment before unsnapping her black top and laying it on the table. Seven tossed it aside before sweeping up the cards briskly, leaning forward as she did so to permit her nipples to graze the table. Harry had been staring at the cards on the table. Now he was staring at Seven's breasts bounce on the flat surface of the table as she energetically mixed the cards. B'Elanna stifled a laugh as she saw Tom whip his gaze away from the table, onto B'Elanna's heaving bosom, and then at a point a dozen or so centimeters above Harry's head.

"Is it getting a little warm here, do you think? Shall we set down the environmental controls a notch?" he asked.

"Oh, no, I'm just fine," replied B'Elanna. "I wouldn't want to get chilled." At the thought of being chilled, B'Elanna shivered prettily. Her nipples cooperated by contracting. Tom averted his gaze a little higher above B'Elanna's head. //A pilot's peripheral vision is certainly an amazing thing,// she thought with amusement.

From there on, the girls didn't lose a hand unless they wanted to. The guys became distracted whenever they were forced to look down at the table. For some reason, B'Elanna's penchant for stretching and crossing her arms behind her head, thrusting her torso forward, along with Seven's for assuming a rigid posture with an abrupt motion for maximum movement of unsupported body tissues, seemed to affect the boys' concentration. The pile of clothing started to assume a very masculine cast as shirts, socks, and a couple of pairs of shorts were plunked down after almost every hand.

To be fair, B'Elanna managed to throw away a full house when one-eyed jacks were wild so that she could remove her bikini bottom to reveal her own thong underwear. While she was standing up to remove her bottom, she noticed that the full house wasn't the only thing that was full. Tom's briefs were getting stretched out. "Tom, you aren't getting a little uncomfortable, are you?"

"Hmm? Ah, no. Not really," Tom lied as he squirmed in his chair.

"I don't know. I think that jock strap is getting a little tight, isn't it?"

"No, it's okay. Really."

"I don't know. I know they call this game poker because you're supposed to be poker faced. I don't think that's the only thing that's stiff as a poker right about now."

Tom tried to assume an expression congruent with the name of the game. "Not at all, B'Elanna."

"I think you're bluffing, Tom." B'Elanna reached beneath the set of bands around his waist and pulled them all down, releasing from confinement the body part that was causing Tom discomfort. "There, isn't that better?"

"You appear to be in a similar condition to Lieutenant Paris, Harry. Permit me." Harry's feeble attempt to dissuade Seven were unsuccessful. "Resistance is futile," she stated emphatically. The sigh of relief that slipped out of Harry's mouth, however, showed how he really felt about Seven's taking charge of his situation. "It would appear," Seven added, "that 'strip poker' is another term that can have multiple definitions."

Considering the rapid way the game was deteriorating, B'Elanna decided it was time to take the game to a new level. Instead of sitting back down in her own seat after kicking off her garment, she leaned towards Tom, threw her arms around his neck, and straddled his lap. After bestowing a passionate kiss on his lips, she backed away from him just far enough to be able to speak and stage-whispered in his ear, "Tom . . . "

"Yeah," he mumbled back between nibbles on her lower lip.

"Don't you think it's time we changed the parameters of our poker game?"

"What do you want to do with our . . . parameters?"

"You know I don't object to playing four handed poker. I just hate for us to waste those four OTHER hands holding cards."

"You've got a better idea for those hands?"

Wiggling her bottom to slide up closer to his lap, B'Elanna shifted one hand down to stroke the poker-straight body part she could feel jerking every now and then along her inner thigh. "I've got a better idea for the four hands that belong to the two of us. And I strongly suspect Seven may be feeling exactly the same way about her hands and Harry's right about now."

"You would be correct," Seven said from behind B'Elanna's rear, with a barely articulate "Uh-hunh" issuing forth from a masculine-sounding set of vocal cords in Seven's general vicinity immediately afterwards, in concurrence.

Tom's eyes were sparkling in that particular shade of deep blue they assumed when he began to think about indulging in a certain physical activity that was always extremely satisfying to both of them. In a low, sexy tone of voice, he assured her, "Hey, if the rest of you want to play another form of poker, I'm not about to get in your way. Just let me know what you want me to do." Simultaneously, he slipped his hands beneath B'Elanna's remaining garment, cupping her buttocks to pull her closer and to rub his stiffened body part a little further up her thigh. His face was flushed with heat, making his eyes shine even more brightly, as if he were running a fever.

B'Elanna was beginning to feel as feverish as Tom. She dragged her fingers through the hair on Tom's head. After sharing another kiss, she moved her hands down his chest, scraping her fingernails through the fine curls there until her thumbs reached his nipples and swirled around them rhythmically. This was a strong hint to Tom to move his mouth down to the equivalent location on B'Elanna's torso and start to suck. He willingly obliged, with B'Elanna sighing in contentment.

Small sounds floated on the air from behind B'Elanna. Some were those made by the smacking of lips. Some were murmurs of appreciation. From this evidence, B'Elanna conjectured that although their little group had split up into two separate games of four-handed poker, the rules of engagement at either side of the table, in all probability, were not dissimilar. Privacy was rapidly becoming a desirable commodity to finish what had been started by both couples.

As if she had read her mind, Seven said as B'Elanna was about to broach the subject, "I believe that Harry and I require time alone. We will now adjourn to the interior of our hut. Feel free to remain on the verandah. It is highly doubtful we will take notice of your presence once we are inside."

Tom came up for air just long enough to utter, "Great idea, Seven."

Seconds later, B'Elanna heard a scraping sound consistent with the one a chair makes as it is moved away from a table, succeeded by what seemed to be those made by two pairs of bare feet slapping on the deck of the verandah. A door opened and then closed. The almost inaudible sounds of a couple speaking softly from inside a building followed. Another scraping sound, although fainter, came from within the building. Flashes of greenish light, the smell of ozone from a hissing construct of Borg design, and the sounds of a couple relishing each other could also be detected from behind the closed door.

While all these activities was taking place inside the structure, however, Tom and B'Elanna were totally disinterested in what was elsewhere. They were far too involved in playing their own two-player game that, by its very nature, was so extremely personal, it tended to absorb the total attention of those playing it, to the exclusion of being able to sense much of anything else until it reached its conclusion--even when that "anything else" was the evidence that another couple had embarked on the very same two-player game.

A rather substantial pile of discarded clothing thrown on the floor served surprisingly well as cushioning, preventing overheated flesh from being forced to endure the rigors of a hard wooden floor. Stimulation of the tactile, aural, olfactory, savory, and visual senses was accomplished in full and totally satisfying measure.

A little while afterwards, once B'Elanna and Tom had slipped on enough clothing not to care if Harry and Seven suddenly reemerged from their hut, B'Elanna remarked, "I like card games, Tom, but this kind of four-handed poker as a lot more fun, don't you think?"

"As long as we play it by these rules, I'd have to agree. It's not a game of chance any more."

"What is it, then?"

"Oh, I think Seven might say it's 'an opportunity for the participants to display their prowess in performing certain interpersonal relationship skills.' "

"I'll go along with that," B'Elanna laughed as she idly traced a fingernail in circular patterns over Tom's torso. "And you know what the best thing is?"

"What?"

"When you play poker this way, everybody wins."

 

~~~~~/\~~~~~~

 

**The End**

 

=/\=

  
 May, 1999  
Revised, April 2000

**Author's Note:**

> Paramount owns all. I'm just giving the characters leave to have some fun in the sun.
> 
> Thanks to Ronda, pjs, and Mr. "Make It So" for "technical assistance." Very unique technobabble this time out. Thanks to jenn, for getting me to revise this. It's about time. And Cheile: here's your game of strip poker. Hope you like it. ;-)


End file.
